


accidentally, you seduced me

by wonderwalls



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison, Babysitting, Fluff, Future Fic, I'm so sorry, M/M, No Smut, You are welcome, honestly just fluff that is all, i imagine them like 25 here, just mention of most of the characters, scott and allison are married with a child, they don't even kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:58:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwalls/pseuds/wonderwalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're even, like. Loving, and stuff. Bet your siblings loved you," he says. The words sound fuzzy even to him. He's not sure what he's saying at this point, his brain-to-mouth filter totally lost in the sleepy haze. </p><p>Derek is quiet for a long time. "Yeah."</p>
            </blockquote>





	accidentally, you seduced me

**Author's Note:**

> This is very much derived from my strong feelings that Derek would be the best with babies after growing up with little siblings, and Stiles is totally clueless all the time anyway. It just worked out like this I guess. How I picture it is Stiles is out of college and back in Beacon Hills, and Lydia is in medical school or something really prestigious idk. Also, Allison and Scott are still getting married and having children, I don't even care what's canon or not. This is my canon, and I'm living in it, and I refuse to accept anything else. Oh and there is like zero actual romantic stuff, I just think it's best like this, when they're just beginning to get close, and it's more hint-y at what could maybe happen someday.
> 
> Title from "Hit" by Sugarcubes.

Kids hate Stiles. Maybe it's the fact that he is loud and clumsy and easily flustered. They also don't understand sarcasm, so Stiles' only survival method is shot. Either way, it's not like it's his fault. 

And it's also not his fault that Scott and Allison totally just dropped their baby off at his apartment with zero explanation other than a rushed, "My mom's got a late shift, it's date night," and some stupid lovesick gazes. Which means baby Mel (Melissa, after Scott's mom), is solely Stiles' responsibility for the few hours Allison and Scott are out. Maybe even longer if they have another urge to reproduce. 

Jesus, Stiles shakes the thought away. One baby is enough for the pack, thanks. 

The moment her parents are out the door, Mel starts crying. 

"Aw, c'mon," Stiles throws his hands up and lifts her up out of the little carrier. "Stop crying. Stop crying Mel, c'mon kid," Stiles attempts weakly. She cries harder. His dad is out on a stakeout that will probably last all night, but Stiles knows that even if he wasn't, he'd probably be no help. His mom was always the baby handler, the sheriff told him. 

Stiles bounces her on his hip while he tries to prepare the milk formula that Allison so kindly packed with no instructions in the diaper bag. He decides it smells about right. Mel doesn't seem to agree though, spitting up all over Stiles, dropping the bottle to the ground, and then continuing to wail. 

"Oh Jesus Christ," Stiles groans. 

She doesn't stop crying after that. Stiles is four seconds away from collapsing from baby-induced stress when he smells it. 

"Shit," he mutters. Literally. "You just shit your pants, oh God."

Stiles holds her out at arm's length, looking around frantically for a flat surface. It's not like he has a spare changing table just sitting around. He decides on the granite countertop, laying Mel down on it and deliberating over how exactly to go about this before fiddling with the adhesive strips on the sides of her diaper. 

He gets it undone, pulls it away, and immediately stumbles five steps back. Stiles doesn't have the emotional stability or skill for this. 

With no reply from Allison or Scott to his frantic texts, Stiles clicks on Lydia's number. 

She answers in two rings. "Stiles?"

"Oh God," he breathes. 

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" she demands. Stiles notes the fact that the whole pack is so used to getting calls from each other while they're in mortal peril. Which, Stiles actually might be. 

"Well, nothing supernatural," Stiles tells her. He risks another glance over at the diaper and almost gags. "Actually, I take it back. Lydia, you need to help me. Scott and Allison dumped their baby off with me while they get it on, and I don't know how to change a diaper."

"I can't help you right now, Stiles," Lydia says. "I'm figuring out this formula for my professor."

Stiles is proud of her, of course, because Lydia is the smartest person he's ever met and it's about time she stopped hiding it from everyone, but it's pretty inconvenient for Stiles right now. 

Isaac's apologetic rejection is a little more expected, because Stiles knows he's usually only in town on Wednesdays, his day off from bar tending, to see the pack. He's distanced himself a bit, and Stiles is sorry for him, sorry that he had a shitty childhood and fell in love with Allison and lost his two best friends in the pack. Some Wednesdays though, when it's all of them- Scott and Stiles and Allison and Derek and Lydia and Isaac- and everyone (even Derek) is laughing about something Scott's boss said, it feels like the real pack. Complete. They all know Isaac has his own life now though, apart from the rest of them. It's okay. He's good at his job, Stiles knows, because he's a good listener and he's smart. He'll find his way, just like the rest of them.

But either way, Isaac and Lydia are a no go, Cora is still in fucking Africa or South America or wherever, and he knows Melissa is working tonight based on what Scott so generously explained before sprinting off to go werewolf-hump his bride or something. Stiles stares at his phone and realizes that his only friends are supernatural. 

There is one contact left. Stiles isn't sure if he's more afraid or excited to annoy him. 

"What do you want?" Derek answers. 

"Yeah, I'm good thanks, how are you?" Stiles replies. He can practically hear Derek's eye roll through the phone line. "Look, I need a favor."

"I said it before, I'll say it again, I am not biting your Calculus teacher to get you out of that test," Derek says. 

"Hey!" Stiles protests. "That's not what this is about. Although, like, it was probably meant to be, the test is on the full moon, Derek, it's perfect-"

"Just tell me what you need," Derek interrupts. 

"Okay. So, um. Scott and Allison kind of left their baby here with me, and my dad isn't home, and she won't stop crying, and it's kind of freaking me out? Like, her diaper is full of shit, Derek, what am I supposed to do about this? Oh and by the way me calling you means nothing, everyone else is just busy tonight. Did I mention Scott and Allison suck? Anyway, I kind of need backup here, or I might die from this smell-"

The doorbell rings. 

"Hold on one second, Derek."

Stiles opens the door and Derek is there, his phone still up to his ear. 

"What in the-"

"Alright, as soon as you mentioned the baby, I had to come. There's no way you can take care of another living thing," Derek says. "May I?"

Damn werewolf speed, honestly, Stiles can't take much more of this.

Mel is still crying. 

"Um. Yeah," Stiles says. He lets Derek past him. 

"You put the baby on the kitchen counter?" Derek gives Stiles a disapproving look. 

"What, I don't have a changing table!"

Derek sighs and looks down at the baby. "Hi, Mel, I'm gonna get you all clean, okay?"

Stiles' mouth drops open at the instant change in Derek. His voice is gentle and his eyes are soft and everything about him just seems _comforting_. He reaches down to rummage through the diaper bag. He pulls out a box of baby wipes, and cleans up Mel, before neatly wrapping up the bomb she left and replacing the diaper. It's quick and efficient and Derek has Mel in his arms in about thirty seconds. 

"What the hell?" Stiles stares. 

Mel isn't crying anymore. She seems content while Derek rocks her slightly. 

"I had younger sisters," Derek shrugs. 

Stiles forgets sometimes that Derek wasn't always alone, didn't always live in a grubby loft with his creepy uncle. That Derek had a family and a mom and a dad and he took care of the little kids and had to plan their funeral too. He wonders if Derek was always moody and cold, or if the fire made him that way. Based on his handling of Mel, Stiles thinks it's the latter. It breaks his heart a little. 

"You're really good with her," Stiles comments. 

"Babies aren't hard," Derek answers. Stiles doesn't miss the change in his voice, the smudging of the sharp lines of his shoulders and jaw like he's relaxed for the first time in a long time. 

"They are for me," Stiles says. "I picked her up and she screamed bloody murder."

Derek smiles- he _smiles_ \- softly and looks down at Mel. "You've gotta hold her right. Reach out your arms."

Stiles does. Derek passes him the baby. She starts fussing a little, probably at the loss of muscle cushioning or something. Stiles doesn't blame her. 

"Support her head," Derek reminds him. He grabs Stiles' elbow and moves it a little, then his hand. "See how you make a little basket? She feels safe now, like she won't fall."

"Oh," is all Stiles can say, because Derek is very, very close to him, and his hands are still lingering around Stiles, like he'll reposition them, and Stiles is noticing for the first time in the kitchen light that Derek has long eyelashes and he wonders how he didn't previously know that Derek's eyes are green. Really nice, pale green that does something funny to Stiles' chest, twists him up in knots. 

"Has she been fed?" Derek asks. 

"I tried, she just started crying more," Stiles nods to the deserted bottle on the counter. 

Derek dabs some onto his finger and tastes it. He makes a face. "God, no kidding Stiles, this is disgusting."

"What? But I put in the right stuff?" Stiles says. Mel stirs and Derek puts a finger up to his lips, miming, _be quiet._

"Sorry," Stiles whispers. 

"You put in, like, a gallon of formula. You only need a little," Derek explains, rinsing out the old bottle and refilling it with the mix and water. He puts it in the microwave for a few seconds and then hands it to Stiles. "Now try."

Mel, amazingly, starts sucking down the milk gratefully. 

"She just likes you better," Stiles mumbles. 

"Babies aren't hard," Derek repeats. 

-

Two hours later Mel is crying again. Stiles is exhausted by now, and Scott and Allison are MIA. Even Derek's biceps aren't seeming to do the trick. 

"How is she still crying?" Stiles groans. "It's like, midnight, babies should be asleep."

Derek bites his lip, thinking, Mel crying in his arms. "Something my sisters used to like was when I put on music and walked around with them. It helped them go to sleep," Derek says softly, his eyes flicking up from the baby to Stiles for half a second. 

"My iHome is in my room," Stiles suggests. 

Derek nods and Stiles leads the way. It's a mess. Stiles grimaces at Derek apologetically, and Derek shakes his head with a smile that's almost fond. 

Stiles puts on Bob Marley. It makes him sleepy, so he's surprised when Mel continues crying. Four songs in, Derek is still pacing the upstairs hallway, and Stiles has collapsed onto his bed. Just resting his eyes. 

He wakes up to a thud, and blearily watches Derek grunt and limp away from the door frame, carrying Mel.

"Hmm?" Stiles manages. 

"Shh," Derek whispers. "She's asleep. Go back to sleep, I'll stay up to keep an eye on her."

Stiles' eyes shut again and he hears the sound of weight sinking into the leather of his swivel chair. He remembers how uncomfortable it is after a few hours sitting on it. It takes a few moments for his mouth to catch up though, and when it does he says, "Don't be dumb, c'mere."

"It's fine-"

"Shut up, Derek," Stiles sighs. 

There's a long pause, and then footsteps on the carpet, and then the mattress dipping on the other side of the bed. Stiles opens his eyes just long enough to see Derek cradling the baby on his chest, listens to Bob Marley soft through the speakers. 

"Y'know, you're like actually nice," Stiles murmurs. 

"Be quiet."

"You're even, like. Loving, and stuff. Bet your siblings loved you," he says. The words sound fuzzy even to him. He's not sure what he's saying at this point, his brain-to-mouth filter totally lost in the sleepy haze. 

Derek is quiet for a long time. "Yeah."

"You'd be really- a really good dad one day, y'know?"

"Go to sleep, Stiles."

-

Sheriff Stilinski gets to Stiles' apartment at one forty-two a.m. He'd gotten a cryptic text from Scott that his son might possibly be in desperate need of help. There is a baby carrier and a diaper bag in the kitchen. He can hear music playing down the hall.

He finds his son in the bedroom, curled up next to Derek Hale in bed, with a baby on the older one's chest. And it's not like he's convinced Derek is a murderer anymore or anything, it's just. He's an antisocial werewolf guy, sleeping with his son, and for some reason there is a baby in the picture. The sheriff recognizes her then as Scott and Allison's daughter, puts the pieces together. 

Stiles exhales, and the sheriff watches his son's fingers curl into the hem of Derek's tee shirt, watches Derek's arm instinctively wrap up Stiles a little closer. And as he realizes what it all means, _really_ means, he smiles. He remembers sneaking up to Claudia's window when they were in college, sleeping with her in the most innocent sense of the term because they both had exams the next morning, and the dorms had _rules_. (There were a few... incidents. The sheriff won't mention it to Stiles.) He should wake them, he thinks. Tell Derek to get home, it's late. He watches his son sigh in his sleep, a type of content that he doesn't get too often in this town with a gang of supernatural beings as his best friends. He doesn't have the heart to destroy it. 

"When he lived with me, these werewolves didn't all think they could just come into my house whenever they damn felt like it," the sheriff mutters. Nobody hears him, but he feels better anyway. 

With the way Derek's hand is curled under Stiles' rib cage, protective, the sheriff knows he's safe. He spares the boys one last look and closes the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS OR KUDOS OR ANYTHING REALLY I DONT CARE YOU GUYS ALL ROCK ANYWAY I LOVE YOU
> 
> twitter: @parlslnterview (the first two "i"s are "L"s)  
> tumblr: triskelelouis


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